"No." She gave a decisive shake of her head. "I don't believe you."

"Rather harsh, lover," he protested.

"He didn't want you to take me to the coven. Why?"

Dante muttered a low curse. Damn Viper and his poor imitation of a mother hen.

'You could not possibly have heard what was said between us," he futilely attempted to bluster.

"I know you were arguing and that he was trying to convince you of something," she charged. "He's worried about what the coven will do to you, isn't he?"

"Viper has always distrusted magic."

"Dante, I want the truth." She folded her arms over her chest, clearly taking on a don't-screw-with-me attitude. "Will they harm you?"

He shrugged. "They need me."

"They did need you, but now everything has changed," she muttered, striking far too close to the truth. "In fact, I think that we should reconsider seeking out the witches."

"What?"

"I won't have you hurt."

Dante grimly kept his gaze on the empty road. Despite his undeniable flare of pleasure at her concern, he wasn't about to make this woman into a martyr.

"Abby, we have no choice."

'There are always choices."

His expression hardened at her soft words. "Not if you are to be rid of the Phoenix. They're the only ones capable of transferring the power to another."

There was a long pause, and Dante had almost convinced himself that he had forced Abby to see reason when she cleared her throat.

"Then maybe I should just keep it."

The car dangerously swerved before Dante could regain command of himself. Bloody hell, the woman never failed to catch him off guard. Slowing to a mere crawl, he shot her a disgruntled frown.

"Yon don't know what you're saying," he growled. 'You haven't been prepared to become the Chalice."

She gave a lift of her brows. "Was Selena?"

He grimaced as he recalled his former mistress. Although Selena had been human, she had always possessed the arrogant belief that she was above others. Not surprising for the daughter of a duke who considered himself on equal footing with his own god. Selena had viewed the power and immortality of the Phoenix as her right rather than her duty.

"She knewwhat she was getting into," he muttered.

Abby reached out to lightly touch his arm. 'Then tell me."

Dante carefully chose his words. He didn't want to add to her terror, but then again, he had to make sure that she understood precisely why it was impossible for her to carry such a burden.

"Can you imagine what it is like to be immortal?" he at last demanded.

"Well, I can imagine it makes life insurance a rather moot point."

"Abby," he rasped.

She gave a lift of her shoulder. "I'll admit I've never had reason to give it much thought."

"It means watching your family and friends wither and die while you remain precisely the same," he informed her sharply. "It means watching life pass by without ever touching you. It means being utterly alone."

She offered a humorless laugh. "My so-called relatives could have posed for the poster of dysfunctional families. My father terrorized and then abandoned us, my mother drank herself into an early grave, and my brothers fled Chicago the moment they could escape." There was a brief silence. "I have always been alone," she whispered in the dark.

Dante flinched. "Abby."

She sucked in a sharp breath, clearly regretting her brief moment of vulnerability.

'What else?"

"You will always be hunted," he retorted starkly, thrusting aside the urge to offer her comfort. He had to make her see sense. "Every moment, some evil will be plotting your death."

She turned in her seat to regard him squarely. "But you said that the Phoenix is beginning to disguise itself."

"It is, but there are always those with enough power or desperation to track you down. That was why I was chained to the spirit as protection."

He could feel her gaze sweeping over his rigid profile.

"Then you can protect me."

Dante stiffened, his skin prickling with a sudden wave of self-disgust.

"Like I protected Selena?" he growled.

"Dante, you can't blame yourself—"

"It is not a matter of blame; it is a matter of knowledge," he retorted in black tones. "Bloody hell, I don't even know what killed her. Which means the sooner I get you to the witches, the better."

"Dante—"

"No." He turned his head to stab her with a fierce glare. "We must do this for the Phoenix, Abby. It must be protected by those who are best suited to keep it from harm."

Neatly outmaneuvered, Abby offered a frustrated scowl before throwing herself back into the soft leather of her seat.

'You don't fight entirely fair, you know."

His lips twisted with wry humor. "A vampire, sweetness, never fights fair. We only fight to win."

Nearly an hour later, Abby gamely battled her way through the weeds that had taken command of the fields about the industrial park.

Weeds and obnoxious, nuclear-mutant thorn bushes, she discovered as she halted for the hundredth time to salvage her jeans from destruction. Hell, she had never liked nature. It was dirty and filled with crawly creatures and things that made her sneeze. And this little jaunt wasn't making her any fonder. Why the witches couldn't have set up shop in the local mall defied her imagination.

Of course, the weeds and thorns were only a small part of her current discomfort, she ruefully conceded. The knots twisting her stomach and the dryness of her mouth was entirely due to the witches that they currently sought

Dante was adamant that it was their only option, but she was not nearly so convinced. Whatever their noble motives, she had witnessed Selena's screams of mercy as they had forced the powerful spirit into her body, and worse, their contempt of Dante as they had bound him with their magic.

Gould women capable of such acts truly be trusted?

Feeling a nervous sickness clenching her stomach, Abby turned to regard the man walking at her side. She was in dire need of a distraction if she didn't want to embarrass herself by running away in screeching terror.

"If you intended to sweep me off my feet with a moonlight stroll, Dante, I have to tell you that I'm not impressed," she teased in strained tones.

Turning his head, Dante flashed his familiar wicked grin. "For shame, lover. What could be more romantic than a gentle night breeze—"

"Perfumed with the rank stench of factories."

"Or being surrounded by the beauty of nature."

"Itchy, scratchy weeds that are going to leave a very unpleasant rash."

He chuckled at her tart words. "At least you must admit that you've never had a more handsome, charming, sexy companion."

Well, he had her there, she acknowledged wryly. Not in her wildest fantasies could she have ever imagined such a devilishly handsome man even existed.

"Perhaps," she grudgingly conceded. "But most of my dates don't come complete with packs of demons, monsters, and zombies."

A raven brow arched. "Dull bastards. They obviously don't understand the potent allure of a true adventure."

"Adventure?" Abby swatted at a biting mosquito with a grimace. "An adventure is walking through St. Mark's Square in Venice, or sipping coffee in a charming bistro in Paris. Not wading through a briar patch in search of witches."

"Actually, the last time I attempted to enjoy coffee in Paris, I nearly had my head lopped off by the guillotine," he murmured. "So you see, lover, it's all a matter of perspective."

Abby stumbled at the off-hand confession. "Good Lord, would you stop that?" she complained.

"What?"

"Mentioning the past so casually. I thought I was ancient because I can remember Melrose Place."

He merely laughed. Damn his vampire soul. 'You were the one who brought up the subject of Paris. I was merely offering my own experiences there."

Her gaze swept over the beautiful features bathed in moonlight. "So you were really in Paris during the Reign of Terror?"

"For a few unforgettable months." He smiled ruefully. "I would suggest that you visit when there isn't a revolution in progress."

Abby rolled her eyes. Her in glamorous, sophisticated Paris? Yeah, the same day that she sprouted wings and tattooed her butt.

"I'll keep that in mind when the destined-never-to-be opportunity rolls around," she said dryly.

His eyes smoldered like liquid silver in the shadows. "Who knows what the future might hold, lover? A few days ago you didn't expect to be on the run with a vampire or battling to save the world from evil."

"Actually, it would have seemed a lot more likely than a luxurious vacation in France."

Reaching out, he gave a tug on a curl that had strayed from her braid. 'You're too young to be so cynical."

"I'm realistic, not cynical," she corrected firmly. "Vacations in Paris are not for women who make minimum wage and—" She came to an abrupt halt, her eyes widening in horror. "Holy hell."